All But Charming
by headagainstthesky
Summary: His eyes are set on one girl, and one girl only - the only problem is that she hates him. A collection of drabbles/one-shots that tell the story of a very lovesick Scorpius Malfoy.
1. Apple

This is a collection of drabbles/one-shots that I am submitting for The Alphabet Challenge on the HPFC forum. :) It tells the tale of how Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy fell for each other, told from his point of view. Enjoy!

* * *

"Watch it, Weasley."

I push by her, not bothering to help pick up the book I make her drop. I hear her scoff behind me, but she doesn't say anything. Why does she never say anything back? I've taunted her since the day we met, and sure, on a few occasions she's responded with a witty comeback, but now she seems to be tired of it. If I have to be honest with myself, I'm tired of it too. My father's told me about the Weasleys, has relayed countless stories about how he used to bully them back when they were in school. The funny part is that the way he tells it makes it sound like they simply poked fun at each other, but I know better. The way she looks at me… well, it's not hard to tell what her parents have told her about _my_ family. I'm sure they've told her to 'steer clear of the Malfoy boy', or that 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree'.

But I suppose it doesn't matter. We've known each other for years and not a kind word has been uttered between us. As much as I want to deny it, though, I can't pretend she doesn't make my heart skip a beat when I see her. Something about her makes me restless.

I'm afraid I'll never know what that something is.


	2. Bell

I think I might kill Professor Sinistra.

Alright, that's going a bit far, but I don't understand how the woman expects us to write a foot-long essay on Jupiter's moons. I mean, how much is there to write about moons anyway? As I'm sucking on the end of my quill and attempting not to stab my own eyes out, I hear a soft thump behind me. I turn around, startled by the noise, and see her standing against the shelves, a pile of books teetering in her hands. The books are falling from her grasp, one by one, until eventually they all fall onto the floor.

A bell rings in my head. Without knowing what I'm doing or why I'm doing it, I shoot up from my chair and rush to help her. She looks at me with the strangest expression I've ever seen, one of bewilderment and disgust. She probably thinks that I'm going to kick the books around or even throw them across the room like a monkey, but instead I begin to pile them in my arms like the true gentleman I am.

"What are you doing?" she says, barely above a whisper. I look up at her.

"Well, I plan on taking these books and putting them really high up on the shelves where you can't reach them," I say sarcastically. I expect her to make a face or groan in frustration, do anything, but she just stares at me. I stand up and put the books on the table behind us, the one I'm currently using.

"I feel bad about what happened the other day," I tell her. "So I'm helping you in your time of need. It's quite simple, really."

"I don't need your help," she snaps at me. She picks up the pile of books and begins to walk away. I expect her to drop them at any second, seeing as how wobbly they are in her hands, but she makes it around the corner and everything goes quiet again. I look around, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, but my mind is devoid of any coherent thought.

Might as well get back to Jupiter's moons.


	3. Christmas

"Are you going home for Christmas this year, Scorp?"

_I have a better question, why do you insist on calling me Scorp?_

I don't say this, of course. I prefer to take the passive aggressive approach, as it's more entertaining in the long run.

"Not this year, Zab. Do you like that? Do you like it when I call you Zab?" I ask him, and I see that he's already rolling his eyes.

"You've never called me Zab."

_That's because it sounds awful, just like the word Scorp_.

"Then how about Bini? That's a fun name."

"Would you shut up? I get it, I'll stop calling you that," he says impatiently. I laugh and wrap my arm around the young lad, who shrugs me off and starts walking faster in front of me. The snow is making his feet sink into the ground, causing him to appear even shorter than he already is. Sometimes I feel bad for him being so small, but then I remember that he's only twelve and that his growth spurt is still to come. Judging from his dad's height, he'll probably reach six feet, maybe even more than that.

I start running to try to catch up with him, when out of nowhere an icy ball of snow hits me in the shoulder. My head whips in the direction of the perpetrator, but whoever it is has barricaded themselves behind one of the courtyard walls.

"You can't hide forever," I say in a singsong voice. Quiet as a mouse, I tiptoe closer to the wall. I can hear distinct giggling, but what disturbs me is that it's coming from more than one person. As soon as I realize this, someone shouts, "FIRE!"

The snowballs start coming from every direction. I can't even look up to see how many people are throwing them, owing to the fact that I'm forced to cover my face behind my arms. I yell, "STOP! YOU LITTLE BASTARDS, STOP IT!"

Of course, no one stops. After a few minutes of the torture I'm at the point where I'm so annoyed that my nostrils feel like they're breathing fire. I take cover behind a pillar and begin to make my own snowballs, enough to get revenge on everyone at least once.

"That's it!" I cry out. "This ends now! ARRGHHHH!"

Instead of running to the middle of the courtyard, I snake around the walls to go for the surprise attack. I don't care how little they are, or what gender they are; if their face is in range, I hit it.

"Yeah-ha-ha, how does it feel?" I laugh maniacally at the fools, the insolent children who dare corner the infamous Scorpius Malfoy. They don't even see me coming. None of them know a thing about strategy, it seems.

I'm about to round on my next victim when I come face-to-face with her. I freeze, unsure of what to do. She looks just as surprised as I am, as if she didn't know that I was the one she and her comrades were targeting.

"Your move, Malfoy," she says, one eyebrow cocked in defiance. We're both shaking from the adrenaline and the cold, but neither of us moves. Her cheeks and nose are flushed with color and her hand is still wrapped around a snowball.

Before I can respond, she throws it directly in my face. The ice hits me with such force that I drop the remaining snowballs in my hands. I am clearly defeated. I am humiliated.

But for some reason when I hear her burst out laughing, I start laughing too.


	4. Distant

The Great Hall is packed with people, and yet all I see is the brightness of her red hair. She's sitting at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by her friends, while I observe from afar. Zabini is trying to talk to me, but I ignore him. It pains me that the only person who's interested in me is a boy that is three years my junior. I try not to think about it too much.

I'm too busy watching her to pay attention to anything else. She has the most peculiar laugh; it's both endearing and frightening, seeing her lips curl behind her teeth like a hyena. But her teeth are so perfectly white that the effect is more dazzling than anything else. I wonder what toothpaste she uses.

"What is wrong with you lately?" I hear Zabini say beside me, his voice full of irritation. I turn to him and study his dark eyes, eyes that glare daggers at me while I try to come up with a response.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," I say casually. Zabini, however, isn't fooled for a minute.

"Yes, you do," he counters. "You're not exactly hard to figure out."

I sneer at him and turn back to my eggs, which have become soggy since I've been ignoring them for the past fifteen minutes. Zabini begins to get up from the table, patting me on the shoulder as he does so.

"Keep dreaming, mate," he says with a sigh. "You're not the only one with eyes for the Weasel."

I see that he's nodding back at the Gryffindor Table, and I follow his gaze. Lorcan Scamander is now sitting beside her. The conversation they're having seems to be an intimate one, what with their shoulders touching and their heads bent toward one another. Suddenly, everything is silent. For the first time in my life I feel something foreign creep up on me, something I never thought I'd ever experience.

The green monster has me in its clutches.


	5. Edge

She sits with her feet dangling over the edge of the tower and her arms leaning against the rails.

In a single moment I wish I could turn around, go back to patrolling the corridors like I'm supposed to be doing, but my feet won't budge. My body is completely still, and I pray to a thousand different gods that she doesn't turn around.

Of course, she does.

As per usual, her reaction is the complete opposite of what I expect. She doesn't back away, or scream, or try to scramble to her feet. Instead, she simply takes in the sight of me and lets out a sigh of resignation. Then she turns her head back to the sky and speaks into the night.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry," I stutter, "I didn't – I didn't think-"

_What the hell is wrong with my brain?_

"Why did you follow me up here, Malfoy?" she says, her tone as icy as the air around us. I swallow, trying to hide the fact that I'm terribly nervous about what's taking place. This is the first time we've exchanged words that aren't backhanded insults.

"The Astronomy Tower is out-of-bounds." It's a stupid excuse, but it's not as if I can tell her the real reason. "You should know that," I add lamely.

"I suppose you're right," she says. Even though we're covered in darkness, I can see that she has a distinct grin on her face.

A gust of wind cuts through the air, making both of us shiver. I contemplate for a minute whether I should sit beside her, put my arm around her to keep her warm. Then I realize how incredibly weird that would be, seeing as the girl despises me.

"Well, you've caught me now. Are you going to turn me in?" she asks.

"I'm still debating it," I say with a smirk. "I'll let you know when I decide."

Perhaps it wouldn't be _too_ weird if I just sat down next to her. Suddenly feeling my confidence return to me, I start to take a step forward, but then she opens her mouth and I freeze again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"No."

_I'll never understand why people ask if they can ask a question. It's so redundant._

"Do you fancy me?"

My heart jumps into my throat.

"What? No," I say a little too quickly, "of course not."

_How am I even sweating right now? It's twenty bloody degrees out here_.

"I think you're lying," she says. She finally looks up at me, and I can literally feel myself blushing. It's a good thing she isn't able to tell.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," I hiss. Her grin is bigger now than it was before, and I can't stand it any longer. It makes me livid to see her so amused. "I'm going back in. Enjoy freezing to death."

"You're a laugh, Scorpius Malfoy."

Her voice is dripping with both sweetness and venom, taunting and teasing me to my very core. How can girls be so vicious? And why does she seem to be so pleased by all of this? The whole situation is driving me mad.

"You know what? Maybe I will turn you in after all," I say indignantly. "Or maybe I'll just dock Gryffindor House fifty points."

"You can't dock points from other Prefects -"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

At this, she erupts into giggles so loud that she has to cover her mouth to stifle the sound. I can feel the rage start to boil in my veins, so I turn around and stalk back inside before she can say anything more. When I've reached the bottom of the stairs, I'm well out of earshot, but for some reason her laughter still rings through my ears.

I'm officially in hell.


	6. Frenzy

The roar of the crowd is deafening. Even though the Slytherins beside me seem fairly uninterested in the game, the rest of the students are in a frenzy. One can't expect much else when it's the first Quidditch match of the New Year – however, this particular game is an important one. Gryffindor is in the lead for the Quidditch Cup, but all Ravenclaw needs is a tip of the scales to overtake them. It's a nail-biter, all right.

Zabini, who is standing next to me, doesn't seem to understand the rules of the game. Or perhaps I should say the lack thereof.

"Oh, come on, Hooch, that was a foul!" he cries out, waving his hands in the air as if trying to get her attention through all of the tumult.

"Knocking your broom into another player isn't a foul, Zabini," I say loudly. He looks up at me and is obviously miffed. "If anything it's mandatory."

I wait for him to go off on me about being sarcastic, but all he does is shake his head in frustration and turn back to the game. I'm about to tell him that no really, it's true, it wouldn't be Quidditch without unchecked injuries, when I hear Emily Wood gasp through the microphone.

"What's this?" she says, and from across the pitch I can see that her eyes are trained on something higher up than where the majority of the players are.

A hush falls over the crowd, and we all crane our necks upward to see what Wood is staring at. Declan Amorin, the Ravenclaw Seeker, is in frantic pursuit of the Snitch, a tiny fleck of gold against the grey clouds. His hand is outstretched to its fullest extent, but the Snitch begins to dive back towards the ground. Everyone is transfixed on the boy as he falls faster and faster, so much so that no one even notices when Gryffindor scores.

I'm the only one who's not watching him.

I'm watching her.

Like a bolt of lightning, she cuts through the air in a matter of seconds. She's nothing but a blur of scarlet, setting the sky ablaze as she makes her way to Amorin. The Snitch, unfortunately, veers off-course, causing the two Seekers to crash into each other. They both hang on, but only just.

Meanwhile, I'm becoming painfully aware of how tightly my fingers are gripping the banister in front of me. I can't say I really care.

The two of them are neck and neck now, both reaching for the Snitch that's only barely out of reach. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that the other players have stopped what they're doing. They seem to be just as mesmerized as we are in the stands.

…_Wait a minute._

There's a swift movement in the air, then the sound of wood hitting iron. I take my eyes off of the Seekers just in time to catch sight of a bludger soaring across the pitch. It's heading straight toward them, and I know exactly whom it's going to hit. I hear gasps from the Hufflepuffs, quiet laughs from the Slytherins, and yet no one says a word. They all just stand there and stare with gloved hands over their mouths.

Then something happens so quickly and so unexpectedly that I can hardly believe it's happening at all.

"WEASLEY, LOOK OUT!"

My voice is louder than I've ever heard it; she whips her head in my direction, startled, and in a split second she sees the bludger and swerves out of the way. The bludger hits the back of Amorin's broom, but he manages to maintain his hold long enough to catch the Snitch and land unceremoniously on the ground. Hooch blows her whistle, and the game is over. The Ravenclaws immediately break out in cheers on the other side of the pitch. On my side… there's only quiet. Complete quiet.

At least a hundred pairs of eyes are on me. I can feel everything from loathing to admiration to amazement, but still no one speaks.

Wood gives a slight cough over the microphone.

"Er… Ravenclaw wins!"


	7. Grass

After the game, it's a long, miserable walk back to the castle. Although Zabini stays at my side, he hasn't said anything since we left the Quidditch pitch. I have a feeling that he's afraid I'll snap at him if he mentions what happened. Funnily enough, he seems to be the only one who hasn't made a snide remark about it.

"Nice going, Malfoy!"

"Hey Malfoy, thanks for putting us in the lead! Ha ha!"

"Do us all a favor and stay in bed next game."

I keep my eyes on the grass at my feet and attempt to block out my classmates' voices. Seeing as I have so much going on in my head, it isn't particularly hard. I'm thinking the same things that they're saying.

I don't know why I did what I did. Okay, I guess I _do_ know, but I'm desperate to come up with a different reason. I'm trying to tell myself that I did it because I wanted Gryffindor to lose, or that I wanted the bludger to hit Amorin instead, or that I'm just a good-hearted person who didn't want anyone to get hurt… but none of those reasons are true. The third one is laughable. In five years of watching and playing Quidditch I haven't once tried to help another player, even if they're on my team. I've always rather enjoyed watching other people get hurt during Quidditch because I know their injuries usually aren't fatal anyway. Besides, the game wouldn't be nearly as fun if there weren't some barbarism involved.

_She's not just anyone, though_.

She should be.

_If she were, then you wouldn't be in this situation_.

Oh, sod off already.

We're just about to reach the castle doors when I hear something behind me.

"Oof!"

"Hey!"

"Watch where you're going!"

Curious, Zabini and I turn around to find out what the commotion is all about, only to see someone with bright red hair shoving her way through the crowd. I feel myself go numb. Zabini scoffs and continues his way into the Entrance Hall, but I stay rooted to the spot, smirking to myself as she makes her apologies.

"Sorry, excuse me. Excuse me. Sorry, Elsie, just trying to get by."

And suddenly she's standing in front of me, still in her Quidditch uniform, her forehead covered in sweat and her hazel eyes burning. She looks up at me and breathes deeply.

"Hi," she says. Her lips are curled in an awkward smile.

"Um… hi."

The students making their way up the slope are being forced to edge around us, but we don't bother moving. When they begin to stare and call out taunts, we don't answer. All we do is look at each other. She actually appears to be nervous in front of me, something I didn't think was possible.

"Look, I just –" she stammers, "I wanted to say – thank you. For what you did."

I'm not sure how to respond to this. My mind is racing and full of nonsense, thoughts I wish I could express but can't seem to put into words. I open my mouth twice to say something and nothing comes out. I decide that a curt nod will have to suffice.

_God, could this day get any worse?_

Her eyes twinkle in delight at my obvious discomfort. I try to put on my famous scowl to discourage her, but it doesn't have the desired effect. She's smiling her hyena smile now, the one I hate.

"See you later, Malfoy," she says, turning back toward the slope.

Then she begins walking down to the pitch, leaving me with my hands in my pockets and my heart in my stomach.


	8. Hero

It's only been three days since the match and already I've become a pariah.

No one hesitates to remind me about making Gryffindor lose, not even the Ravenclaws. In fact, they add more fuel to the fire by flaunting their victory as much as possible. Everyone laughs and whispers when I walk by. People shove into me and try to trip me, and twice now I've had dragon dung thrown at my head. But I suppose I was the lucky one in those situations, seeing as I was quick enough to dodge it; it was their hands they had to wash off after.

I try to tell myself that it will only be a matter of time until the match becomes old news, and eventually people will tire of taking the mickey out on me. They'll move on to another victim, as they always do. Until then, though, I have to tread carefully. I've started eating breakfast earlier, confining myself to the common room when I can, and taking shortcuts through the castle to steer clear of the more crowded corridors. It's difficult to keep up with, but I'm slowly getting used to it. I rather like spending time to myself.

As I'm walking to Potions class, I notice that my newfound shortcuts aren't as empty as I'd hoped. Not only that, but the people milling about the corridors aren't shouting their usual taunts at me. Instead they buzz like bees in a hive, as if they're waiting to attack at just the right moment. It's unsettling, to say the least.

When I finally arrive to the dungeons, I see James Potter leaning against the wall right across the Potions classroom. He's surrounded by three of his friends, one of them being his brother Albus.

_And the day was going so well._

Naturally, when James sees me, everyone around us goes quiet. He straightens up and lifts himself off of the wall to face me.

"If it isn't the famous Slytherin," he says. A wicked smile is plastered on his face.

"Get out of the way, Potter," I mumble, attempting to walk past him. I'm stopped when he steps directly in front of me, but I do nothing. The last thing I want is more hatred from the Gryffindors; I already have it in spades.

"Nice Quidditch match the other day, wasn't it, little Scorpius?" he says menacingly. It's funny that he calls me 'little', seeing as we're the same height. "Of course, we would have won if you hadn't distracted our Seeker."

"'Distracted'?" I repeat, meeting his cold gaze with my own. "I saved your cousin from getting a bludger to the face."

"It wasn't going to hit her in the face," he spits. "It probably would have missed her completely, they were flying too fast."

There seems to be a murmur of agreement through the crowd surrounding us. James's friends, Neil and Rhys, keep nodding their heads and glaring at me like I'm some kind of insect. Albus, however, looks embarrassed.

"James, just drop it already," he says quietly.

James huffs at him in response and turns his face back to mine, no doubt preparing to strike at me with another comeback. Before he can open his mouth to speak, his head bobs up into the air as though he's seeing something behind me.

I look around and see that Rose is walking right up to us with her bookbag in tow.

"What's going on?" she asks. She stops beside me, but she's looking directly at James.

"Oh, just harmless fun, is all," he says, his tone sickeningly sweet. "Little Scorpius here was just telling me how he's in love with you."

He narrows his eyes at me and smirks.

"Go on, Malfoy, tell her what you told me."

I'm frozen. I don't know what the hell Potter thinks he's playing at, but it's something I'm not prepared for. My heart is hammering so fast that I can't think of a single thing to say, not with everyone listening in. Not with _her_ listening in.

It seems I'm spared the pressure when she makes a noise of disgust.

"Cut it out, would you?" she says. "Malfoy did what my own flesh and blood wouldn't, so don't pretend you're so much better than he is."

James is obviously offended by this.

"You're joking! What did you expect us to do, fly in front of the damn bludger to keep it from hitting you?"

"Of course not," she says angrily. "But I would expect you to care more about my own safety than a stupid game."

I see James's jaw clench, but he doesn't say another word. He begins to walk back to the staircase that leads to the Entrance Hall with Neil and Rhys trailing behind him. I sigh with relief and turn to Albus to say something, but his eyes immediately shift toward the wall. Clearly he's not ready to talk to me just yet.

I feel that Rose is looking at me, but I can't seem to face her. I'm too mortified at what James said to really process my thoughts at the moment. Nevertheless, I don't want to experience another awkward silence like the one that took place after the Quidditch match. There have been enough awkward silences between us.

"Thanks for that," I say, although I make a point to keep my eyes in front of me.

"I owed you one," she sighs. "Besides, James was out of line. He'll find any reason to pick a fight with you."

"Can't argue that."

The students all along the corridor suddenly begin walking toward the classroom, telling us that Potions is about to start. Rose and I follow suit, and as we're pushed along with the crowd a funny thought pops into my head.

"You know, we seem to be good at coming to each other's rescue," I say.

Her head moves in my direction - and somehow, in that second of time that it takes to inhale, our eyes lock.

"Let's not make a habit out of it," she says with a smile.


	9. Interesting

As the two of us step into the classroom, I saunter over to my usual seat in the back. I've never been particularly fond of sitting in the front of classrooms; the feeling of people's eyes on the back of my head is somewhat uncomfortable, and it causes me to lose concentration easily. Besides, sitting away from everyone means that I can mutter under my breath a million times over and no one will bat an eyelash. It's the perfect place for a social outcast like myself, especially now that the entire school seems to hate me.

I sit down and set my bookbag in front of me, pulling out my copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions _with a bored flick of the wrist_. _I give a start when I feel someone come up from behind me and take the seat to my left.

Rose.

"Mind if I sit here?" she says breathlessly, pulling the strap of her book bag over her head and flinging it onto the table.

When she grins at me, my chest aches and my cheeks flush. I hope that she isn't able to tell, but I can never figure out whether she can or not. She wears a constant face of bemusement around me, almost like the sight of me makes her want to laugh. It's disconcerting more than anything.

"Not at all," I say. "May I ask why you're not opting for the front row, as you normally do?"

"It's not as if the front row is very entertaining." She gives a small flip of her red hair and eyes me steadily. "If you'd rather me leave you alone, I will."

"No," I tell her, the corners of my mouth quirking upward, "I'd rather you not."

We gaze at each other for a split second before I hear an awkward cough from someone sitting a few rows ahead. I look up, perplexed, and see Albus Potter staring at me, no particular emotion on his face. He's just staring. It takes a large amount of effort not to say some sarcastic remark; I'm so used to being labeled the haughty Slytherin that spitting out feigned cruelty is nothing short of instinct. But he at least attempted to stifle his brother's petulance earlier, and that isn't something I can easily forget.

I say nothing, but I nod in his direction. At first he doesn't react. His eyes are glowing with intense curiousness, something I've never seen from him before. After a few moments of silence, he gives the tiniest of nods back, and quickly fixes his attention back to the front of the classroom. Slughorn is speaking now, but I don't hear a word he's saying. I'm too caught up in this interesting turn of events.

And they will only get more interesting.


End file.
